


Camelot Tattoos [Fic+Podfic]

by froggyfun365, LaDonnaErrante, RsCreighton



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Community: pt-lightning, Drunk Arthur, M/M, Modern Era, Music, Nipple Piercings, PT-Lightning Challenge: Round 5, Piercings, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 20-30 Minutes, Slash, Tattoo Artist Merlin, Tattoos, multiple podficcers, multiple readers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggyfun365/pseuds/froggyfun365, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDonnaErrante/pseuds/LaDonnaErrante, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's drunk and wants a tattoo. Merlin refuses to give him one until he's sober.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camelot Tattoos [Fic+Podfic]

**Author's Note:**

> Note: music is “Knights of the Round Table” by Derek Fiechter
> 
> Link to music: [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pf9hFlljpIk)

Podfic also available for streaming or download: [HERE](https://app.box.com/s/l911hzhckt6mypujtg4i). Duration: 00:20:51, 19.0 MB. Enjoy!

For fic continue below. Comments are love! <3

__________________________________________________

 

**Prologue**

Merlin placed the tray in the autoclave and began cleaning the set up. Gawaine had just left with the lines done for his new sleeve and there were no other appointments that night. He dawdled, looking out the window at the people passing by, listening to the sound of their chatter and taking in their outfits. Friday nights were always like this--Londoners out on the town, passing by the tattoo parlors and piercing shops, mesmerized by the neon signs. He went back to cleaning up, taking the needles he had used on Gawaine into the back to dispose of properly. He was just throwing out his gloves when he heard the bell on the door ring. A loud male voice called out, "Hello," and he could hear others drunkenly slurring as well. 

Merlin sighed and came out to the front counter. "Hullo, how can I help you?" Four fit young men, in expensive black suits, stood at the register, swaying slightly. Business men, on a Friday night piss up; Merlin knew the look. The tallest one, clasped the shoulder of a short, stocky blonde man and spoke. 

"This here's Arthur. He needs a tattoo." 

"Yessssh. I want....a tat...a tattoo. Of a..of a table." 

"Well," responded Merlin, "you'll have to come back sober to get it." 

"C'mon mate," one of the other men added, "it's his first one. He ought to be a little sloshed." 

The other men jeered and grumbled their agreement. 

"Yeah."

"Not fair."

"Our money's as good as anyone elses."

"There are plenty of other artists, on this very street, who would happily serve you tonight. My policy is clearly stated in the window. No drunken tattoos." 

"Fine. We'll go down the street." The tall one said, pointing a finger at Merlin's chest and pushing him slightly. Merlin crossed his arms, standing his ground. Dealing with drunken louts was a semi-regular occurrence. 

"No." The blonde one straightened his back, clearly trying hard to appear sober and carefully overenunciating his words, "You're the best. I told them I'm only doing it if we do it here." 

"You're welcome to return another day then." 

"Fine. Lesssgo." 

He turned and stumbled out of the shop, followed by his mates and Merlin went back to cleaning up. 

 

**Celtic Triskelion**

Three days later, after work, instead of going down the pub with Percy and Elyan, Arthur decided he owed the tattoo artist an apology for their behavior. Besides, he really did want that tattoo, even if the best tattoo artist in the city was rude and unhelpful. He pushed open the door to Camelot Tattoos. In the light of day, it was a bright, clean shop. The walls were adorned with pages of art--brilliant butterflies in an array of color, orange and black striped tigers, green fairies and other common designs. He looked for the license and found it prominently displayed:

City of London  
Special Treatment Licence  
Merlin Emerys  
Tattoo Artist

The young man from the other night came to the counter. He was tall and skinny, black haired and bright eyed. Arthur let his eyes wander over the man's slender, tattooed arms.

"You're back." 

Arthur nodded, distracted by the swirling triangles which covered the man's narrow wrists. "Your arms--what are those symbols?"

"They're triskelion. Ancient Celtic symbol, the three spirals represent the past, present and future. They're one and the same, my destiny. Always was, is, always will be." 

Arthur stared, for a long moment, trying to comprehend the cool wisdom that emanated from the man in front of him. He lost himself in the spinning of the triskelion, the feeling that Emerys was right, that there was no distinction between what had been and what would be. 

“Can I help you?"

Arthur snapped his head up, "I just wanted say I'm sorry for the way my mates...the way we behaved the other night."

"I'm used to drunken prats. It comes with the territory." 

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You're the one who refused us service. Now, are you going tattoo me, or not?"

Emerys gave him an assessing look. "Ok. What would you like?" 

"I'd like the Round Table, as in King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table. No knights though, just the table."

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it."

"An empty table." Emerys repeated. "You're sure?"

"Yes, genius, I'm sure." Arthur was frustrated. He couldn't explain to this stranger, _why_ he wanted the Round Table, company business was confidential. 

"Okay, well if you're sure..." The man pulled out a blank page and began making notes, refusing eye contact with Arthur. "Where would you like it?" 

"On my right arm, above the elbow."

"Color or lines only?"

"Color." 

Merlin began to roughly sketch a Round Table, with high backed chairs positioned around it. Arthur watched his hand--quick and confident. A delicate tattooed ring of celtic knots covered his index finger. "This okay?"

Arthur studied the page, even the quickly drawn outline was nearly what he had in mind. Emerys really was as good as his reputation. 

"Come back tomorrow, and I'll have it ready to ink the lines. I can squeeze you in at 7. We'll do the color next week. Your name?"

"Arthur Pendragon."

 

**The Round Table**

Merlin showed Arthur around the shop the next evening--changing the covering on the chair in front of him and pulling out a vacuum sealed pack of sterilized needles. As Arthur rolled up his sleeve and sat in the chair, Merlin reminded him that this would in fact hurt. Arthur glared at him. Merlin wanted to giggle; Arthur was trying to seem intimidating, but he was, in fact the opposite. Merlin had long ceased to be intimidated by men who thought they could bully their way into anything. He found it almost cute, though if Arthur kept it up, it would become grating. 

He poured Gaius' specially made inks into ink caps and sat down. Arthur's arm was well muscled, Merlin noticed, as he grasped it firmly. With the first touch of the needle Arthur flinched. Merlin's grip tightened. "Hold still," his voice was commanding. Arthur grimaced and braced himself, but he kept perfectly still for the rest of the appointment and for each of the next appointments after that.

Until the roundtable was finished, Arthur barely said a word. Merlin was used to clients talking: some spilled their innermost secrets and others merely babbled. His regulars always asked after Gaius. Merlin would answer them conversationally, but often he was so engrossed in creating the fine lines that he never really listened beyond someone's explanation of why they wanted a particular piece. Merlin used their intention in his art, feeling that every bit of care and thought he carved into skin was a little spell, meant to realize whatever the client hoped for the symbol. Almost everyone mentioned sooner or later, why they wanted a particular design. Merlin rarely had to ask. And yet, Arthur never said a word about it. Merlin didn't pry, he simply concentrated on creating a powerful and elaborate Round Table for Arthur. 

When it was finally finished, shiny with vaseline, Arthur stood in front of the mirror, a look of pride coming over his face. Merlin saw his opening and jumped at it. 

Smiling, he asked, "Why the Round Table?" 

Arthur turned around and studied him for a moment, clearly deciding if Merlin was to be trusted. 

"I've just made executive VP at my father's company. I want to celebrate, and I've always had a bit of a thing for King Arthur." 

"Okay...and you went for the Round Table. Not Excalibur or a knight?"

"You wouldn't understand. The Round Table," he sighed, "it's about teamwork and equality. It's the best of King Arthur, creating new traditions. That's the kind of leader I want to be." 

Merlin was taken aback. Arthur wasn't the kind of posh suit he had expected. "I see. Good luck with reshaping the company then." He smiled. And Arthur smiled back and reached out to shake Merlin's Hand. "Thanks Emerys." 

"Call me Merlin." he shouted over the doorbell as Arthur left. 

 

**The Rod of Asclepius**

 

Arthur applied vaseline for the requisite number of the weeks and watched as his Round Table slowly healed. He often thought back to the feel of the needle in his skin--the painful pleasure of it akin to a salty sweet taste. He wished for the mingled sense of anticipation and relief that had overwhelmed him with the first prick of the needle. He told himself that this was why he returned to Camelot Tattoos, and in part, it was. But it was also the feel of Merlin's strong, gentle grip on his arm, Merlin's commanding voice and impudent manner. He had been surprised by Merlin's clear understanding of the symbolism of the roundtable and his ready acceptance of it, despite his initial tone of incredulity. 

When he returned to Camelot's, he found Merlin so deeply engrossed in a drawing, that he hadn't even noticed the bell over the door. Arthur put on his most obnoxious tone and drawled, "What does one have to do to get some service around here?" Merlin looked up, his cheeks coloring as Arthur had hoped. 

"You could try being polite." 

Arthur smiled broadly at him, "Where's the fun in that? Now, I need an Excalibur to go with that Round Table."

"Getting ready to do battle?"

Arthur nodded. "Trying to implement a living wage policy."

"Aaah. Well. Let me see what I can do."

Merlin's intense focus on his work meant that Arthur could stare at Merlin's tattoos all he wanted once their sessions had started. And while he tried to piece together what he could about the man from the art adorning his body, it wasn't much. Like most tattoos, they only revealed aesthetic preferences, not deeper symbolic meaning. Merlin clearly had a thing for the celts. Not surprising, Arthur thought, given his name. Otherwise, he was a random mix of medieval and ancient greek imagery. Supposing he would have to ask if wanted to know much more, Arthur dove in. 

"What's with the medical thingy?" He pointed to the staff and snake on Merlin's neck. 

Merlin, stopped for a moment, looked at Arthur quizzically and went back to the tattoo. "The Rod of Asclepius? I am a healer, in a way. Not with medicines or therapies. But that's what drew me to tattooing in the first place. 

"You're very good at it," Arthur said seriously, and Merlin looked up, his golden-green eyes meeting Arthur's for a long moment. 

**Excalibur**

Arthur was as chatty while Merlin worked on Excalibur as he had been quiet before. He always had a story about his father's unreasonable demands and the obedient and loyal men who worked for them both. For all his cocksure arrogance at their first meeting, Arthur was struggling to balance love for his father and duty to his ideals. He asked Merlin about his own tattoos, seeming to realize that they weren't mere decoration, but that each one meant something to him. And while Merlin had given facile answers to other customers, he felt that Arthur demanded truth. He couldn't pinpoint why, exactly, but he knew he wanted Arthur to be successful. And it seemed that in order for him to make the golden blade of Excalibur sing the way it should, he needed to put more of himself into it.

As Excalibur progressed from outline to fully colored blade, complete with a shield bearing the crest of Camelot, Merlin found himself looking forward to sessions with Arthur, anticipating both their banter and the warmth of Arthur's smile. He was drawn to Arthur, in a way he hadn't ever experienced with another client. For Merlin, bodies were canvass, at least while he was working on them. But he couldn't help thinking about the smattering of blond hair he could see below Arthur's collar, or kissing Arthur's strong jaw line, with just a hint of five o'clock stubble. It really shouldn't have been a surprise; Merlin spent his life immersed in Arthurian imagery, waiting for a knight in shining armor, hoping more than believing in his destiny. Of course, he would fall for a man named Arthur Pendragon. 

Merlin spent late evenings at the shop, sometimes finishing the elaborate back pieces and sleeves of regular customers and other times preparing drawings for upcoming appointments. One evening, before the last Excalibur session, he drew the Round Table and the Excalibur, noticing their proximity. He doodled around them, adding images and background.

"I've got something to show you." 

Puzzled interest showed on Arthur's face. Merlin pulled out his drawing from the night before. "It's a full sleeve. It just came to me, I think you're supposed to have it."

Merlin could see Arthur's throat working as he studied the drawing, his eyes lingering over a black knight on a fire-breathing horse being bested by a white knight. Arthur looked up at Merlin, his eyes full. 

"This is....it's...Thank you." Arthur's hand found Merlin's, tracing gently over Merlin's knuckles, and squeezing firmly. 

Merlin, squeezed back and felt himself grin. "Let's get on with it shall we?" 

 

**Dragon**

As Arthur looked at the newly finished Excalibur in the mirror, he couldn't help but beam. It was beautiful and he imagined it sitting as the centerpiece in the full sleeve Merlin had designed. In the mirror he could see Merlin watching him, wearing the same expression as the fox that caught the rabbit--the smug git raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Well?"

Arthur turned around to face him. "I should wipe that smirk right off your face." 

"I'd like to see you try." 

Arthur could think of nothing else to do except close the distance between them and place a hand on Merlin's cheek. He heard Merlin's breath hitch. "May I?"

Merlin nodded and Arthur swooped in to kiss him. The kiss was soft at first, the fulfillment of everything left unsaid when Merlin had presented Arthur with the drawing. And then, Merlin bent, ever so slightly and bit at Arthur's lip. The sharp pain sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine. He sighed. 

"Upstairs." Merlin said gruffly. "Now." 

They scrambled to the flat above the shop, where apparently Merlin lived. He pulled Arthur onto a fraying couch and sucked at his neck. Arthur moaned. He pulled Merlin's tee off over his head and stared in awe at the pierced and tattooed chest before him. He bent down to suck at a nipple, tracing the shape of the dragon whose flaming breath licked the ring there. He flicked the ring lightly with his tongue and Merlin moaned. 

 

As they lay in Merlin's bed together, some time later. Arthur lazily traced the dragon with a finger. Above the dragon, he noticed a scroll with runic writing; curious, he pulled back. 

"What?"

"Tell me about the dragon and the scroll, what does it say?"

Merlin laughed weakly. "The dragon is sort of my...well my guide. Y'know, the creature that will lead me to my destiny." 

"It's beautiful. And the scroll?"

Merlin looked away. "You are but one side of the coin. It's from an old legend. Something a great dragon once said to the wizard Merlin."

"That's it?"

Merlin blushed. "Well, that's all my tattoo says. But the legend says that Kilgarrah said to young Merlin: You are but one side of the coin. Arthur is the Other." 

Arthur pulled Merlin close and kissed him again.


End file.
